


Of Mermaids and Men

by liberteas



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, Selkies, USUK - Freeform, USUK Secret Santa 2015, mermaid au, merman au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 10:20:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5865601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liberteas/pseuds/liberteas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simply put, Arthur doesn't know how to swim.<br/>Alfred is going to fix that.<br/>He also has to do something about the fact that he's not entirely human.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Mermaids and Men

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Darkling_Moth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkling_Moth/gifts).



For @urbanmermaid666 for the usuk secret santa! I’m your pinch hitter for the secret santa exchange! I loved all three of your prompts, and I’ve been planning fics with similar themes so it was a pleasure writing this. I don’t think I put in enough mermen in, (and I kinda threw in some selkie mythology) but I still hope you like it! And sorry for procrastinating right until the deadline!

* * *

 

Despite having been raised near the sea, Arthur had never learnt how to swim. Every summer, his family would spend a week at some sunny beach and he would watch his brothers frolic in the water and turn his nose up at the sand in their hair, their shoes, and on their clothes. His preferred choice of activity was simply to sit under a palm tree at the very outskirt of the beach, reading. His brothers tried to get him to at least learn how to swim, but he’d never seen any reason to do so.

That was, until now. He found himself sorely regretting his decision of not learning how not to drown as he thrashed helplessly in the icy, murky seawater, gulping down yet another mouthful of salty water as he tried (and subsequently failed) to draw in much-needed air into his burning lungs. What had been meant to be a pleasant river cruise turned out to be a burial in a watery grave. The more he floundered and struggled, the deeper he sank. His life jacket, by some stroke of incredibly bad luck, had floated off before he fastened it securely and Arthur was convinced that the universe was conspiring against him, because almost immediately after his life jacket had disappeared, a sudden surging wave had smothered and submerged him, sweeping him away until he’d lost sight of everyone else on the ship. The night had been moonless, and the waters so dark he could not find anyone else.

Cursing his poor life choices in his youth, he struggled even harder despite his swimming vision and the pounding in his head due to the lack of oxygen. In his disoriented state, he imagined himself seeing a very handsome, very concerned face hovering in front of him. He couldn’t make out the exact features clearly, but it was clearly a man’s face. The head was attached to a long lean body that tapered off to what appeared to be a fish’s tail. Arthur supposed hallucinations were part of the standard process of drowning, and the last thing he saw was a pair of hands reaching out toward him.

Arthur was woken by the the murmur of voices around him. The warm red glow behind his lids burning his eyes reminded him that he was not dead. Blinking hard, he found himself laid carefully on the seashore. His body seemed mostly unhurt and pain-free, except that his throat felt raw and scratchy and his limbs were slightly sore. The sun was beating hotly down on him, and his clothes (or what remained of them, at least) were dried stiff. A crowd was gathered around him, tittering, and there was someone patting his shoulder, saying something, but a strange sensation upon his exposed skin beneath his tattered clothing distracted him from them. Upon his body there was a strange piece of fabric. It was a colour between grey and blue, light and sheer as chiffon and as smooth as silk. It shimmered and glittered brilliantly in the sunlight, and upon closer inspection, it was made up of thousands of tiny shiny scales, each reflecting light of all colours of the rainbow. It was cool to the touch and strangely soothing, like a child’s safety blanket.

He dimly realised that he was being hauled onto a stretcher and he’d instinctively fisted his hands into the fabric, a bit disoriented by the change in surroundings. He didn’t let go, not while he was being carted off to the nearest hospital, not even when doctors examined him and proclaimed him perfectly healthy but in mild shock. He was asked his name and address, his family notified of his current situation, and in a matter of days, was promptly sent home, where he was welcomed by his tearful family. He kept the strange piece of fabric that had materialized out of nowhere as a souvenir of his close scrape with death.

That being said, he had no intention of ever repeating the ordeal, if he could avoid it. He made up his mind to learn how to swim. Unfortunately, he was more traumatised by the incident than he’d consciously realised, because he was seized with terror whenever he was more than half-immersed in water, unable to move a muscle. He couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t so much as breathe, as he stood frozen near the pool side with the water lapping at his legs like an idiot. The water seemed to be sucking the warmth out of his body, and the very notion of allowing it to close up around his head and chest had his heart beating furiously in fear. Even though his brothers tried to teach him at least how to tread water, he couldn’t really manage it in the shallow end of the pool. Within a week he’d given up trying to swim. It also happened that the lifeguards at the local pool thought he was utterly mad and gave him weird looks whenever he went there and stood immobilised in the middle of the pool.

Several years and a couple of promotions in his firm later, his superior thrust a paid-for ticket and several forms into his hands and told him to get a break from work. He hadn’t taken leave from work for a few years, not even when he was sick. It wasn’t like he had anything better to do with his time anyway. Apparently this was alarming the HR department, so they just decided to make him go on a compulsory holiday.

He was shipped off to a small coastal village, where fine-sanded golden beaches stretched endlessly along the entire coastline with crystal clear waters frothing at the shore. They’d arranged for him to stay for two weeks. Arthur didn’t really think sitting on the beach getting sunburn was relaxing or enjoyable, but there was literally nothing else to do there. There was no internet, and the mobile signal was spotty at best.

He was sitting under his umbrella (though he’d already slathered on a disgusting amount of sunscreen), reading peacefully, when a young blond man who was all tanned skin and sculpted muscles approached him. He introduced himself as Alfred, and was genuinely interested in the book Arthur was reading. Alfred worked as a lifeguard for the beach, and when he was not on duty, he often came to listen to Arthur reading aloud. It happened that Alfred couldn’t really read, and only had a rudimentary grasp of the letters that made up words, but he was extremely intrigued by how the little black rows of marching ants could carry sounds and tone and meaning. He knew only the simple words and recognised a scant few others, but he had no opportunity to learn more. Arthur taught him slowly and patiently, pointing the words out on the paper and making Alfred jot down some of them.

No one had really shared his passion for reading, or paid such devoted attention to him before. Arthur found himself not just reading to Alfred, but talking to him and pouring his neglected heart out. It was a very sad fact, but a fact nonetheless, that Alfred was the first friend Arthur had. Arthur loved spending time with him and was even dreading his eventual return to work. He’d reassured himself that this village was only a couple of hours from his home, and he could come visit Alfred on the weekends.

On one such weekend, Alfred had forgone all pretense of learning and was just lying in Arthur’s lap, listening to the quiet crinkle of turning pages and letting Arthur play with his hair. They were talking about the sea, because Alfred had been whining for Arthur to play in the water with him for ages.

“You don’t know how to swim?” asked Alfred disbelievingly, as if he expected that everyone popped out of the womb with the ability to swim proficiently.

“No. My brothers tried to teach me, but I refused.” Arthur replied, slightly offended at the pitying look Alfred was giving him, like he was missing out on life.

“I could teach you,” Alfred offered, his pearly white teeth glinting in the sunlight. “I’ve been able to swim since I was a kid and I know these waters really well, so I swear nothing will happen to you.”

“No, I don’t that would work,” sighed Arthur. “You see, I have this...fear of water. I can’t go anywhere deeper than my waist.” Alfred frowned and leaned upwards until he’d wrapped his solid arms firmly around Arthur.

“I want to show you the beauty of water. I won’t let anything happen to you. And it would make me feel better about you teaching me how to read.” Alfred stared up at Arthur with wide, pleading eyes. Arthur felt like he was drowning in the bottomless depths of those pretty sea-blue eyes. He could already feel himself relenting, unable to refuse any request of Alfred’s that made him happy. There was this unspeakable urge within him to make Alfred happy, to make him laugh, to just sit there and admire the strong planes of his face. Many a night he had tossed and turned and agonised over his feelings for the handsome youth, before he’d dismissed the visions of the future he could have with Alfred as mere fantasies.

Thus, when Arthur laid his eyes upon the sight of Alfred clad only in the tightest pair of briefs, displaying his broad chest and ripped abs in their full glory, he didn’t know whether to die from sensory overload or to scream in excitement like a teenage girl because he was getting more material to fantasize over. Arthur himself wore a simple pair of swimming trunks, and he couldn’t help feeling a twinge of jealousy as he glanced at his own flat stomach.

“You don’t have to be nervous!” Alfred enthused, the picture of exuberance. Grabbing Arthur’s hand, he practically dragged Arthur down the beach right to the water’s edge.

I can do this, I can do this, I can do this, Arthur chanted in his head. I can do this.

But as they waded in deeper he felt the old fear rising again. His heart was racing, the frantic thudding like the panicked hoofbeats of a fleeing deer. When the water reached his knees, he retracted his hand from Alfred’s warm grip. Panic once again held his limbs in place, but this time, Alfred was there. He felt a sure hand guide him forward, but he couldn’t make his legs follow the commands his brain was issuing. Tears of humiliation and disappointment threatened at the corners of his eyes, and he turned away in defeat to make his way back to the beach, only to be interrupted by Alfred’s boisterous voice.

Alfred was a little distance away. With horrified realisation Arthur realised that he was clutching a very familiar book in his free hand, dry for the moment, brandishing it above his head. Arthur had no idea how and when Alfred had gotten his hands on his priceless first edition of the Hobbit, but all he could think of was the book slipping from Alfred’s precarious grasp and being drenched in the salty water.

“If you want it back, you have to come and get it, Artie!” Alfred hollered.He made a particularly exaggerated gesture with his hand and the book slipped from his grasp, falling directly towards the waiting water.

With a wail of disbelief Arthur surged forward, hands outstretched, but Alfred had already caught the book with ease and was laughing at the expression on Arthur’s face.

“I knew it! You like that book more than you like me!” chortled Alfred, dancing out of Arthur’s reach.

“Of course I like that book more than I like you, you imbecile! I don’t even like you at all! And give me that!” Desperation drove Arthur forward as Alfred squirmed backwards from his grabbing hands.

Alfred was laughing so hard it sounded like he was having an asthma attack. When Arthur finally reached him, he held the book up high so that Arthur, with his shorter stature, could not reach it.

“This is not funny!” fumed Arthur, trying to clamber onto Alfred and reach for the book.

“Ah, Artie, careful there, if you topple me there might be no one to save you from drowning -” Alfred broke off to giggle at Arthur’s now stricken face.

Only then did Arthur realised he was in water that was up to his chin, but he was completely free of fear. Instead he felt only light-headed giddiness.

“Oh, Lord,” he said slowly, as if seeing his surroundings for the first time. “Bloody hell.”

Alfred was finally quiet, and Arthur carefully wrapped his arms around Alfred’s neck and laid his head on his collarbone.

“Thank you,” he whispered, tears once again brimming. “You’re kind of my favourite person right now.”

“Aww, Artie, I’m honoured. Please don’t cry,” said Alfred, wiping Arthur’s tears tenderly with his thumb. “You know, I’ve been meaning to tell you this for a long time.”

Alfred paused.

“I really really like you.” Alfred said, searching Arthur’s eyes for reciprocation.

“I don’t, I - ah - I li...” Arthur went redder and redder as he tried to bring himself to say the words. He decided to make an incredibly stupid decision.

He went on tiptoe, leant forward and kissed Alfred. Alfred made a shocked sort of whimper, melted into the kiss, and dropped the book, where it fell into the water with a ‘plop’. Arthur honestly couldn’t find it in himself to care.

“Ah, sorry,” said Alfred, but his eyes were dazed and he looked nothing close to sorry. Alfred’s lips slanted over Arthur’s again and again and Arthur supposed that he’d gladly trade a priceless first edition for an equally priceless Alfred F. Jones.

Over the summer they made great progress (in both his swimming lessons and relationship-wise) and Arthur managed to master the front crawl and the breaststroke.

It was an ordinary afternoon, when Arthur caught sight of the curious creatures. The weather was fine, and the sky was so blue it almost could compare with Alfred’s eyes. Almost. At first glance the creatures seemed to be some sort of oversize fish, leaping out of the water occasionally and splashing around like children.

Alfred followed his gaze and peered at the faraway creatures.

“The dolphins are very energetic today,” commented Alfred. But Arthur looked closer and saw that it was not so.

“Um, Alfred, those are not dolphins…” Arthur trailed off as he watched one of those creatures - no, mermen - even at this distance he could see that they had the faces of men, and the tails of fish. Arthur cast a surreptitious glance around. No one else seemed to be making a fuss about those creatures.

“Huh?” Alfred scrunched up his brows. “What exactly do you see?”

“They appear to be men with fish’s tails. And before you ask, no, I am not crazy and Flying Mint Bunny is not a figment of my imagination.”

“Wait, you can see them?” said Alfred. “This is amazing! I’ll call them over!”

It was Arthur’s turn to be confused. Alfred whistled shrilly, and Arthur was positive it was not possible for the mermen to hear from that distance but they did, and they turned around, waved to Alfred, and began to swim over.

Alfred and Arthur went to the small dock to meet them.

“Don’t other people see them?” asked Arthur. “Why isn’t anyone screaming?”

“Normal people can’t see them. I mean, I always thought you were hallucinating but hey, it turns out you can see magical beings!”

“What do you mean, you thought I was hallucinating?” huffed Arthur indignantly.

They sat down carefully at the edge. Before long, two heads broke the water’s surface. One of the mermen looked almost exactly like Alfred, except his hair was slightly longer and he had violet eyes, while the other had vibrant blue eyes and wavy shoulder length hair that looked as if its owner had spent hours styling it.

The one that looked like Alfred introduced himself as Matthew, and the other called himself Francis. Matthew turned out to be Alfred’s twin brother. Arthur raised a brow at that.

“But if he’s your twin, why is Matthew a merman and you’re...human?” he asked.

“Um, it’s kind of hard to explain,” said Alfred. “I am a merman, it’s just that I’ve lost my skin.”

“Your skin?”

“Yes,” said Francis, suddenly leaping out of the water and perching on the dock next to Arthur. His long tail gleamed silver with glints of green, blue and purple in each individual scale, like the wings of an insect. Though his chest and face was covered with human hair, scales crawled up his back and his arms. “Watch closely.”

With a single fluid motion, he had shimmied out of the layer of scales on his skin, and suddenly Arthur realised the tail was gone, replaced with very human legs and other...manly bits. In his hands he held the layer of scales, like a sheer embroidered shawl, thin, light and shimmering in the sunlight. It looked exactly the same as the strange fabric he’d found on his body all those years ago. Arthur frowned. Did this mean...

“Francis! Put your skin back on! He gets the point!” scowled Alfred, cheeks red. “No one wants to see your junk!”

Francis sniffed and slid back into his skin with a fluidity that Arthur had to marvel at. He dropped back into the water.

“Yes, that’s actually the reason why we’re here,” said Matthew, unperturbed. “We sensed the magical aura of a merman’s skin in the city. Alfred needs his skin back to regain his merman form.”

“Every moment we long for the loving embrace of the boundless ocean,” interjected Francis. “Even that brief separation from the sea just now was extremely taxing. The sea is our mother, our lover, our home. Every step we take on land is like a dagger stabbing the soles of our feet, punishing us for turning our backs to the sea.”

“Is this true?” questioned Arthur, facing Alfred.

“Mostly, yeah. I love the ocean. The only reason I’m not exactly screaming in pain is because this beach is close enough to the sea that it’s endurable. And it hurts, but we would never have met if I hadn’t lost my skin.”

“Oh, Alfred,” Arthur muttered, “You should have told me when I forced you to go to the city centre with me to see that stupid movie. If only I knew…”

“Well, it was really complicated…” said Alfred, scratching the back of his head. “But it turned out okay!”

“But there’s a catch if we find the skin. Alfred will lose all his memories of the time he spent on land with you,” said Francis.

“So we understand if you don’t want to help us,” said Matthew.

“But it’s not really that likely that we’ll ever find it,” said Alfred, “so you don’t have to worry, Arthur!”

After talking a bit more about the life and customs of the merfolk, Francis and Matthew had disappeared back to the deep.

Arthur spent the night with Alfred, but he couldn’t sleep. Alfred’s warmth surrounded him, but the guilt was chilling from the inside. He saw, by the moonlight streaming from the window, Alfred seemed to be transfixed by something under the bed.

Rising, Arthur realised that Alfred was clutching the curious piece of fabric from that long-ago unfortunate cruise in his hands. Unraveling it, Alfred held it up against the light. Backlit by the silver moonlight, it seemed exceptionally ethereal, sparkling brightly in the darkness.

“Alfred?” he asked, somewhat unnerved by Alfred’s almost hungry gaze.

“Where did you get that?” Alfred breathed, as if he couldn’t believe his own eyes. “Oh Arthur, I’m so sorry, but I must.” He moved as if in a trance, smoothing his fingers along the silky scales, his eyes screaming wonder.

With a flourish he’d draped it around himself like a cape. The scales shimmered and seemed to blend with his flesh, like a second skin. He flung the window open, hurtled through and became only a streak of silver headed toward the sea.

“Alfred!” cried Arthur in dismay from the open window, “Alfred!” he repeated, more forcefully, and he woke with a startled yelp, sitting straight up in bed, sweat beading across his forehead. Though it was only a dream, he felt sick down to his stomach. Alfred’s sleepy hands pulled him back down, and he allowed himself to be encircled by those gentle arms.

What could he do? What should he do? He didn’t want to lose Alfred, but he didn’t want to lie and hide this from him, now he knew how much Alfred needed the ocean and how this separation was hurting him. It was mean and selfish and all kinds of wrong, but Arthur could not bear to be away from Alfred just as much as Alfred could not bear to be away from the sea.

When morning came, he had made his decision. He called in sick to work, went home, and retrieved from a small box under his bed, the merman’s skin. He stared at it for a long moment. Then he went to seek Alfred.

He found Alfred with his toes in the water. Surprised to see him, Alfred threw an ear-splitting grin Arthur’s way.

“Why are you here?” asked Alfred.

Arthur couldn’t find the words. He didn’t know why he was here, either. He only reached into his bag and drew out the skin.

“Some years before, I almost drowned during a shipwreck. By some miracle, I ended up on dry land. When I came to, this was laid on my body. I didn’t know what it was. But I kept it for all those years.”

Alfred was silent. He didn’t take the skin.

Arthur spoke, finally, studying his feet like they were the most interesting thing in the world. “I wouldn’t be angry if you put this on and forget about me. I really do understand. I mean, I’m not special or nice or good-looking and I know it would be selfish of me to even hope that you would stay. All I want for you is to be happy, Alfred.”

“And you make me happy, Arthur,” said Alfred, pulling him into a tight embrace and tossing the skin into the sea, where it slowly dissolved into sea foam. “More happy than the sea ever could.”


End file.
